


Ficlet: Warmer, Warmer, Hot

by danglingdingle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danglingdingle/pseuds/danglingdingle





	Ficlet: Warmer, Warmer, Hot

_**Ficlet: Warmer, Warmer, Hot**_  
Pairing: John/Sherlock  
Rating: NC17  
Disclaimer: (c) BBC  
A/N: 1000 words of some mature fluff for an anonymous point donator at dA, who asked for fluffy Schwatsonlock.  
It's cold outside. So the guys take the needed actions.

  
The wind of the cold fingers of winter had painted both the men's cheeks bright red - Even Sherlock couldn't escape normal circulation.

Hands freezing, John blew into his gloves, hoping that the little bit of warmth would make any difference,

Finally, inside 221b Baker Street, John took off his gloves - leather, not the best option with these weathers, and followed Sherlock's eyes as they clearly observed John's bright red fingers.

Cringing, John went to the bathroom to soak his poor fingers, the burning cold almost making him moan out of pain.

Running the water into the sink, John looked into the mirror, finding Sherlock standing behind him, coatless, shirtless, only with his jeans on.

"How can you do that?"

"Pain is only in the mind. Besides, I get warmer sooner without the layers of clothes. Something I'd recommend you'd aspire for too."

At the moment, John cold only think of his painfully tingling hands, trying to find the silver lining that they hadn't frozen so badly he'd need medical care. Home remedies would do.

Still looking at Sherlock through the mirror, he found Sherlock smiling gently, affectionately even, "Though I understand that working those buttons off would be difficult in your current predicament."

Scooting closer, Sherlock pressed himself against John's back, beginning to raise John's jumper, getting aid from the man with the soaked hands.

Under the jumper, Sherlock found a buttoned shirt, the buttons of which he swiftly began to open, again getting help from John, whose fingers had started to have some feeling again.

His bare chest against John's back, Sherlock lowered his hands over John's, rubbing his fingers gingerly, "Did you know that the best way to regain body heat, is to snuggle with another body?" Sherlock asked casually, his wet hands sliding up John's arms and back down again.

The water was hot, steaming the bathroom so that John's cold see Sherlock from the mirror anymore, but he could feel him. Oh, God, how he could feel him. The bulging of Sherlock's jeans could not go without noticing, and suddenly John's cheeks were red for wholly other reasons than cold,

In fact, his hands seemed to feel a lot better, as did the rest of his body. Warm, even.

Sherlock's proximity didn't intimidate John at all. He craved more. To turn matters to the desired direction, John turned around to face Sherlock, brushing his own erection against Sherlock's through the annoying fabrics.

"Bath," Sherlock nodded towards the tub, opening John's jeans' buttons, finding the prize he was looking for.

"There's no time. I can't wait for the tub to fill," John panted in Sherlock's hands, followed by a blissful kiss which Sherlock bent down to caress John with.

Sherlock detached himself from John to put the water running, then dragged John closer, removing him from his confines that kept Sherlock from seeing his lover wholly.

"You're beautiful." It wasn't a compliment. Sherlock didn't ay compliments. He merely stated facts.

"Then let me see your beauty," John undressed Sherlock, then stood there, just watching the angular joints, the marble skin, the god chiseled in stone, not believing his luck that this man, this gorgeous man was his and his alone

The tub filled slowly, only some water still in the bottom when Sherlock gently drew John towards it, stepping in first.

"Sit on my lap. The porcelain is too cold for you."

From where Sherlock got the presence of mind not to care about said coldness was beyond John, but he did as he was asked.

He sat down casually, Sherlock's cock between his arse cheeks, not penetrating, just being there, promising, smooth and desirable. John leaned back to twist to kiss Sherlock as the water rose inch by inch, warming John from outside in.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock inquired between the pecks of kisses, his hand delving under the water to squeeze John's cock gently, stroking languidly as if he'd no intention to do so in the first place.

"Much better," John leaned his head to Sherlock's shoulder, then nipped his ear which peeked from under the mass of hair.

Slowly, with unhurried movements, the couple enjoyed each other's presence, licking a throat, a tongue lapping an ear, whispers meant for no one but him echoing soundlessly in the bathroom.

The water eased the way, when Sherlock finally buried his cock inside John, John's back curving out of pleasure as Sherlock inched himself in, letting out small mewls of pure, golden happiness,

Disappeared inside John to the hilt, Sherlock stopped all movement, holding John still too, before he started rocking John in his lap, the water around them sloshing to the floor, uncared by anyone.

With these restrictions, John couldn't but to follow the motion, his face a singular symbol of pleasure as Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing.

Growling into John's ear, Sherlock flicked his hips up, still not stopping the rocking movement, he delivered an important message; "I'm going to make you come without touching your cock. You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, please," was all that John could muster, his cock hard, ready to burst, ready for anything Sherlock had planned for him. And yes, he loved it when the smooth, gentle waves of his orgasm started from the base of his spine, and orgasm so different from what he could ever do on his own.

The rocking motion seemed to go hand in hand with the undulation in John's stomach, coiling into a red hot bundle of the essence of his life at this moment.

With a badly concealed moan, a gust of wind, John came hotly into the water, it's substance making John feel it would never end.

Catching his breath, John looked at Sherlock with half-lidded, heavy eyes, "And what are we going to do with you?"

When it came to Sherlock, the most exquisite feeling of all his life was when John dived under the water and sucked Sherlock's cock, until arising again, lewdly licking his lips.

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